


Some People Get Close

by toowincesttolive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday Sex, Excessive Drinking, M/M, Mutual Pining, Stanford Era, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toowincesttolive/pseuds/toowincesttolive
Summary: Dean looked up into the hazel eyes he’d been avoiding all night. Spent all this time changing his mind and then running away for Sam to show up in front of him anyways. “Wouldn’t mind some company,” he replied.
Dean decides to surprise Sam on his 21st birthday at Stanford.





	

Sam woke up with a headache. It was like his body was anticipating the next morning, giving him a pre-hangover headache. Maybe it was a sign to just stay in bed. The idea was tempting. But the light through the window was not about to let him fall back asleep, so Sam rolled out of bed and let his feet hit the ground with a slight “oof.”

The other bed in the room had its comforter pulled back at an odd angle and the pillow at the wrong end, but no body lying in it. Brady had already left for class. Or work.

“What’s today again?” Sam mumbled to himself, shuffling towards the mini fridge. He glanced at the calendar and followed the x’s until they stopped. May 2nd. His ever-so-exciting 21st birthday.

He also remembered that Brady’s last final was today. He sent a quick prayer of thanks up again for the luck of finishing all of his finals yesterday. So his semester was over. And it was his birthday.

He imagined Brady had scrounged up a few people who didn’t mind getting drunk off their asses with Sam Winchester so that he could call it a party. Sam allowed himself a moment to wonder if Jess would be there. They’d been on and off again the whole year, and Sam was about ready to retry the “on again” part.

Sam allowed himself an even shorter moment to consider texting Dean. He almost hoped he would call, but Sam was not even sure if he would be willing to answer a call from his brother. He pushed the thought from his mind as swift as it had come.

The real question was which bar Brady had chosen for Sam to drink legally for the first time. It wouldn’t be Sam’s actual first time, not by a long shot, but being legal now wasn’t bad when he thought about it.

~

Dean stared down his phone, daring himself to call his brother. He hadn’t called Sam in over a year now. He was kind of proud when he thought about it. Usually, it only took a bottle of whiskey and he’d be spilling his life story all over the bar he was sitting at or the stragglers that passed by his hotel. When he could not find anyone, there used to be a baby brother that might listen. 

This happened several times in the first few months after Sam left. His absence was an ever-present ache in Dean’s chest. He wouldn’t even look over to the passenger side of the impala most of the time, just so he could have an illusion of the way things once were. When he drank that ache only got worse until he had to hear Sam’s voice again. Had to know he was safe. Alive. Happy. Happy without Dean so Dean should be happy without Sam. 

If only.

Eventually Dean garnered enough self control call less often, and then not at all. He still had urges to hear his brother’s voice, see his face,  but he kept those urges out of the light. It did let him breathe easier sometimes. Since he’d stopped calling, he also stopped waking up with a hangover and a gnawing regret about whatever he said the night before. Now he just had the hangover.

But today is May 2nd, 2004, Sam’s 21st birthday. How could Dean not call? Not even to offer a “happy birthday” to his brother. He definitely can’t take him out for a night of hopping parties and bars and getting wasted legally for the first time like he had once thought he would do. It’s the most exciting birthday most people have, and Dean won’t have anything to do with it.

He thumbs over the green button again, staring at Sam’s name.

“Aw, fuck it,” he mumbled, closing the phone. Dean got in the car and turned the key.

~

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SAM! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SAM!! HAA-” Brady flung the door open, singing at the top of his lungs.

“Alright thanks, man!” Sam yelled back. The whole dorm must have known at this point.

“Any bars you want to hit up?” Brady asked, dumping his books on his bed. He looked expectantly at Sam.

“It’s, uh, 2 pm, Brady,” Sam said. “We could at least wait until 5 or so to try and get alcohol poisoning.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” Brady laughed. “Fine. The bars can wait. Have you eaten today? Let’s have a normal celebratory meal first.”

~

Dean pulled into Palo Alto right around 4 pm. He had no plan. He didn’t even know where Sam lived. He could be anywhere in the state of California. Dean hadn’t spoken to him in over a year. Who’s to say Sam is even a student here anymore?

Dean pulled into a restaurant somewhere near campus to calm himself down and figure out what he was going to do. He sat there for a few minutes before deciding he could use a burger before he makes any plans.

“Hi, my name is Rebecca. I’ll be your waitress today,” the blonde as cute, but clearly distracted. Dean couldn’t blame her. Waitressing wasn’t exactly the most enjoyable job in the world. Dean had tried it once in Kansas City.

“I’ll have the burger and a beer. And there’s no chance that you now Sam Winchester, do you?” Dean looked up at her through his lashes, usually his go to move when he’s trying to get a girl’s number.

Rebecca looked up over the small pad of paper she had in her hands. She gave Dean a really hard look, like she was trying to place him in her memory.

Dean didn’t know whether Sam would have talked about him enough for any random person to be able to recognize him, but then again he didn’t really know Sam anymore, either. He came out of his mind to realize that Rebecca was saying something.

“It’s called Branner Hall. If you head in that direction,” she pointed out the window. “It’s west of the main quad. If you ask around when you get there, someone should get you to the right room.”

“Thanks,” Dean smiled as she walked away.

~

Brady had at least three bars and/or clubs lined up for Sam tonight. He had not been giving details away freely, but Sam managed to gather at least three locations were involved and at least one club. He hoped that Brady was a little flexible with his plan because Sam was perfectly happy getting wasted in one bar without head pounding loud music, and then going back to his dorm to sleep until 5pm the next day.

Sam pondered the ways he could persuade Brady to lower his expectations and elaborate plans for the night as he walked down the hall to the showers.

~

Dean drove by the dorm Rebecca described and found the parking lot behind the building. He parked the impala and started to get out. The door was halfway open when a shiver ran down he spine and he stopped. He still didn’t know what he was going to say. He didn’t know what Sam would say. Or what Sam would do. He may call whoever the hell he’s supposed to call to get an intruder thrown out. Dean could easily fit that description.

He closed the door and sat in the impala, thinking about what he was about to do. He stayed stuck inside his own head until he lost track of time. God knows how long he was sitting there guessing and second-guessing. 

At one point he scanned the windows of the building in front of him, hoping maybe one them would give him the slightest glance into the place where his brother lived. He looked into each room as best as he could, not that he would be able to tell if it was Sam’s.

His eyes got to the third floor when he saw someone move through the window. He looked closer and saw a tall guy with dark hair walking across the room. Dean knew better than to get his hopes up, but he still watched through the window.

For a moment, Dean was struck by how creepy this was. This was how he watched for the object of his next hunt, not his brother. A feeling of shame swept over him, but he made no move to stop or leave.

The guy turned gave Dean a better view of his profile. The sweep of hair and the outline of his face almost convinced Dean that it was Sam.

Watching the outline of this person, who may or may not be his brother, Dean was suddenly aware that there was nothing he could say to Sam. Happy birthday? And, it’s not like Sam called Dean on his birthday. Dean couldn’t do this. He put the key back in the ignition and took off for the nearest dive bar he could find. If it was Sam’s 21st birthday, surely he would be somewhere a little bit classier. Dean hoped.

~

The first bar had been packed. It was like all of Stanford was packed into one room with a strobe light. Brady was ready to party, but Sam was not feeling it. Maybe if Jess was there, but a friend of Brady’s said Jess was working, or studying. He couldn’t remember, that friend was at least three shots ago and Sam had already had a pretty good buzz at the time. He looked for Brady to tell him he was leaving, but he only managed to find him in the corner with some girl he’d never seen before, so he left the party for something quieter. He walked towards the next bar he could find, only tripping a little, hopefully quieter with fewer bright lights and bass.

He found a place that looked a little run down and smelled like old leather. In a sad kind of way, it reminded him of a home he hadn’t seen in three years. He pushed the door open and walked towards the bar. It was a slower night here, and Sam was thankful for the change of atmosphere. The bartender set a beer in front of him and went back to cleaning and stocking the shelf behind him.

Sam let his gaze wander until he found a dirty blond in an old leather jacket nursing a beer at a small table in the corner. Something about him looked familiar, but Sam couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“You look kind of lonely over here,” Sam said, slurring just a little. He was usually pretty good about coming off a little less drunk than he actually was.

Dean looked up into the hazel eyes he’d been avoiding all night. Spent all this time changing his mind and then running away just for Sam to show up in front of him anyways. “Wouldn’t mind some company,” he replied. Sam sat in the chair across from him, balancing on the edge like he was already ready to leave. “What’re you drinkin, sweetheart?” Dean smiled.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Sam said, winking as he sat back further in the seat. As far as Dean could tell, Sam was either too drunk to recognize him, or Sam was doing exactly what Dean was and pretending not to know him. “So how old are you? You should know I don’t date guys over thirty.”

Dean feigned a gasp. He knew for a fact that he did not look 30. Not even close. He could pass for a high school student if he wanted to. His little brother wouldn’t need to ask, anyways. “There’s no need to start now. I’m 25. And you are?”

“21, today actually. Today’s my birthday,” Sam proudly stated.

Dean flicked his wrist dramatically to look at his watch. “Well, then, the way I see it, you’ve got about fifteen minutes left of ‘today.’ Anything left that you wanted to do?”

Sam grinned. “I’ve got some ideas, but I’ll need your help...uh-”

“Dean,” he said. Dean decided Sam must be super wasted, because he definitely wasn’t sober enough to keep up a lie this well.

“Dean,” Sam repeated. “Where you staying tonight?”

“I could tell you,” Dean said, keeping his poker face much better than his brother. “But I don’t know you that well. You could be trying to get me somewhere to kill me.”

“I’m an open book,” Sam replied. “What do you need to know to take me home with you?”

Dean dropped a couple bills on the table and stood up. He grabbed Sam by the shoulder and pulled him along towards the bathroom.

Sam followed Dean into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, flipping the lock. He immediately felt himself being pressed up against that door.

Dean pressed his lips against Sam’s throat. His mind was telling him to slow down. He was supposed to be a stranger, but all Dean could think about was Sam trying to explain away the hickeys and the bruises tomorrow morning.

Dean pulled back, already breathing heavy. “So tell me about you, Sam.”

“How’d you know my-” the realization dawned on him slowly. Dean watched and waited for him to get angry or leave. Instead, Sam looked at him intently, then leaned down to kiss him.

Dean took the hint and ran his hands around Sam’s waist. He lifted up the shirt and let his hands roam over Sam’s smooth skin.

“I think I can trust you,” Dean whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

Dean lead Sam out of the bar, pulling him by the hand around to the parking lot. The impala was sitting in the back corner. It was shaded from the streetlights by the trees in the back but it was still just as gorgeous as ever. Sam wanted to cry: It still looked like home.

They ran to the car, and for a brief second they were kids again, racing to the impala. Dean beat Sam by a hair and opened the door.

Sam crawled in, laying on his back, and Dean got in on top of him. He pulled his shirt off and watched Dean looking over him. They hadn’t done this since before Sam left for Stanford. Sam wasn’t as toned as he used to be, since he spent more time studying than training now. Dean kind of liked it. He liked this softer Sam, less hurt and anger all the time.

Sam pushed his hands under Dean’s shirt and pulled it over his head, then went about undoing Dean’s jeans and pushing them off. He grabbed Dean’s cock over his boxers, jerking him over the fabric.

Dean moaned at the friction, fumbling his fingers while trying to work Sam’s jeans off. Once he got the zipper down, he slid his fingers under the waistband of Sam’s jeans and underwear and pushed them both down in one go. He took a second to look at his little brother although “little” didn’t seem to describe anything about him anymore.

“Fuck,” Sam gasped, reaching up to kiss Dean again. He moved to the side so he could roll them over and grind down against Dean.

The kiss turned into just open-mouthed breathing against each other. Sam reached between them and wrapped his hand around both their dicks. Dean ran his hand up through Sam’s hair, rocking into his hold.

“Uh,” Dean breathed. “Sammy, I’m close.”

Sam just moved his hand faster, mouthed along Dean’s jaws until he heard the hitch in Dean’s breath and felt his come over his hand. He looked up at Dean’s eyes, glazed over in an orgasmic bliss. Seeing his brother like that, because of him, pushed Sam over the edge against his brother. Sam wiped his hand against the leg of one of their jeans and slotted his legs with Dean’s. He carefully let himself relax and laid his head on Dean’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I missed you so much,” Sam whispered.

“Missed you, too, Sammy,” Dean replied, playing lightly with Sam’s shaggy hair.

~

Sam woke up the next morning back at his dorm, in his bed, alone. He had a hangover to end all hangovers. He almost didn’t make to the bathroom down the hall before throwing up everything in his stomach. He emptied everything that could be there, and eventually let his forehead rest against the cold toilet seat. He coolness made him feel just a little better. He stopped thinking about how awful he felt for a second to think about the night before, then heaved several more times into the toilet bowl.

“Dammit, Dean,” he groaned when it finally stopped.

A scaldingly hot shower and ten minutes worth of brushing his teeth later, Sam felt significantly better. With a clearer head, the more Sam thought about the night before, the less sense it made. Why would he see Dean at some bar on campus somewhere on his birthday? It seemed just too good to be true. And how did Dean manage to get him back up to his bed if he was blackout drunk? Or passed out. It just didn’t add up. But it also seemed incredibly vivid to be some kind of dream. Maybe it was just some other guy in a leather jacket he hooked up with.

As the day went on, Sam still could not figure out what had happened the night before. He thumbed over Dean’s name a few times in his phone, but he didn’t know what he could even say to his brother.  _ Hey, sorry I haven’t called in two years, but do you know if we hooked up last night? _ Eventually, Sam decided it must have just been some strange dream. Nothing else made any sense. Dean never even called to say Happy Birthday, anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> "Some People Get Close" is a lyric from the song Wired Differently by The Wombats.  
> Thank you so much for reading!!! Please Please PLEASE leave kudos or comment if you liked it!!


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